


Hell of a Right Hook

by tenscupcake



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenscupcake/pseuds/tenscupcake
Summary: When an obnoxious, inebriated coworker won't leave Rose alone, the Doctor rescues her in a rather unexpected way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Adams1422](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams1422/gifts).



> Um so I randomly wrote this semi-ridiculous thing instead of working on EP????? Idk what happened???? I like thought of this idea a few months ago, and always said it'd be fun to write it... but like, never thought I actually would??? Anyway hopefully you're getting a sense of my confusion. I hope you guys like this lil' thing. I wrote it pretty fast and it's 100% unbeta'd, so, go easy on me :P
> 
> Warnings for: drunkenness (by a minor character), a little bit of not-very-graphic violence.
> 
> [(why, yes, this was in large part inspired by parks and rec...)](http://andrewdwyer.tumblr.com/post/45165619154/parks-and-rec-meme-12-scenes-bowling-for)

Scarfing down the last of an appetizer basket of chips and vinegar, Rose takes a deep breath. Leaning her head back against the booth, she stares up at the rickety orange lamp hanging over the table and exhales slowly. She had forgotten to breathe for a moment, there. With how hectic it was at Torchwood today, she hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.

She lifts her phone up off the table and glances down at the time again.

Only three minutes have passed since she last checked, but another text comes through before she sets it down again. She grins when she sees it’s from the Doctor.

_Nearly there._

She sighs with relief. With a little something in her stomach, she was about ready to text him to just meet her at home, order delivery from someplace. The aroma of grease and alcohol and the constant hollering of blokes at the football game on the tellies throughout the pub – though normally welcoming on a Friday evening – are starting to grate her. A particularly stressful week has left her with an aching head and sour mood that would prefer a quiet night in. But seeing him will lift her spirits; she’s certain of it.

She twists around to peer over the top of the booth to glance at the storefront, hoping to catch the first glimpse of him through the large glass windows as he approaches.

No sign of him yet, her eyes wander around the crowded pub merely for something to do. As luck would have it, her gaze gets stuck on a familiar face just a few tables away. She looks away as soon as she recognizes him, but for just a fraction of a second, their eyes met. There’s no denying it.

Kevin Ferguson.

“God damn it,” Rose grits out through her teeth, pressing her fist into her forehead. Kevin’s been on a mission in Finland since before the dimension cannon’s success and the salvation of the multiverse. Seven months, now. More than likely, he doesn’t know anything about the Doctor that now resides in this universe. And at the moment, Rose regrets that he doesn’t.

Before he left, Kevin was a constant grievance. Loitering at her desk to flirt while she was trying to work, incessantly asking her out no matter how many times she told him she wasn’t interested. He wasn’t aggressive, though. Not by society’s standards. He brought flowers; he left chocolates. He was fit, dressed nicely, wore expensive cologne. So it was difficult to get anyone else at Torchwood on her side, and especially to have him fired for sexual harassment, though she tried a handful of times.

Staring down at the table, she fiercely hopes that, somehow, he didn’t recognize her. Stupid a hope though it is.

Why’d he have to choose a Friday night to come back into town? Why _this_ pub?

She picks up her phone again, and mashes out another text to the Doctor in a panic.

_Hurry._

The sooner he gets here, the better. Though the Doctor may be slight, and a bit geeky looking, she thinks having any bloke in her company will deter Kevin from approaching.

Those three little typing dots appear at the bottom of the thread immediately.

_You ok?_

Before she can respond to the Doctor, heavy, irregular footsteps approach the booth, shuffling on the thin, industrial carpet.

“Hello, Rose.” Kevin’s normally smooth voice drawls a bit.

She looks up from her phone with a tight smile, taking in his mostly unchanged figure. Sharp cut black suit, light stubble on his otherwise smooth jaw, vividly green eyes, cropped and coiffed raven hair (that still doesn’t hold a candle to the Doctor’s).

“All right, Kevin? Back in London?” She gives him the benefit of the doubt, and addresses him politely. Maybe he’s changed. Found someone else. Come to apologize for his past behavior.

“Just this afternoon.” He hiccups violently. “Can I sit down with you, love?” He gestures to the empty half of the booth.

Suppose not, then.

“Sorry, it’s saved.” She shakes her head.

“For ‘oo?” His features twist into a scowl.

“The Doctor.” She shrugs like it’s obvious, because to anyone else it would be.

Kevin bursts into giggles at that.

“The alien man? Coming to have a beer at the pub?” The stench of beer wafts out from his lungs as he laughs; and while that perfectly white smile may seem handsome to anyone else, it just looks like an evil sneer to Rose.

Of all the women in the bar right now, why her? Why is he _still_ stuck on her?

“You’re pissed,” she points out, trying to remain calm.

“No,” he slurs. “C’mon, drinks on me, babe. Anything you want.”

“Why don’t you go back to your mates?” she nods her head in the direction whence he came.

“We both know you’d have gone back ‘ome to your universe if you’d really found the ‘Doctor.’” He raises his fingers for air quotes as he spits out his name with derision.

Rose isn’t sure what to say. He’s clearly drunk, and won’t understand any explanation she offers, anyway. There’s no point in arguing with him, so she bites her tongue, hoping he may leave on his own if she doesn’t bait him further.

“Time to let ‘im go, darling.” He rests his hand on the table and leans on it substantially, swaying a little on his feet.

“Leave me alone, Kevin,” she asserts, glaring right into his glazed eyes. Always start with civility, she reminds herself. Use force only when necessary.

“C’mon, love, aren’t you ‘appy to see me? Isn’t that why you stuck ‘round?” He reaches a hand out to touch her face, and she slaps his hand away.

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” she commands, hands clenching into fists. He doesn’t make another move to touch her, and for that, at least, she’s grateful. Emboldened by her success, she continues. “Go. Away.” She nearly growls at him, nodding her head for him to leave.

“What’s going on here?” the Doctor’s voice calls out behind her, more forceful and deep than she’s ever heard it. She swivels around to see him, relief and joy bubbling up in her chest. In the last few steps to reach the booth, he drops his satchel on the ground and rolls up the sleeves of his plain white Oxford shirt. He puffs out his chest a little as his hands clench tightly into fists at his sides.

“Nothin’, mate.” He waves his hand in the air and exhales another gust of ethanol at them both. “Just her highness Rose Tyler,” Kevin spits her name in her direction. “Bein’ a _bitch_ as always.”

It all happens so quickly from there.

The Doctor springs forward, winding up his arm and hurling his right fist at Kevin’s jaw with a muffled smack. Kevin stumbles backward, colliding with the empty table adjacent to hers and collapsing on top of it. Unable to withstand the sudden impact, its legs collapse from underneath it and the entire structure comes down with a tremendous crash. The splinter of wood, the clatter of silverware and broken glass, the thump-thump of Kevin’s now-lifeless body rolling onto the ground. There’s a fresh red welt on his cheek, and a little river of blood coming out of his nose.

“Ow,” the Doctor gasps from besides her. She manages to pry her eyes away from the sight of Kevin limp and unconscious amidst the debris, and glances back at the Doctor. He shakes out his right hand a few times before clutching it in his left, his face scrunched up in pain.

“Bloody hell,” she mumbles, looking back and forth between him and Kevin in disbelief.

“Oi!” a bartender shouts from behind the counter. “What’s goin’ on over there!?”

Rose suddenly realizes every single person inside the pub is staring at them, the entire establishment silent save for the shouting crowds and referee whistles on the telly, and the Doctor, hissing in pain as he experimentally palpates his knuckles.

Rose pulls a few quid out of her pocket and tosses the crumpled bills on the table to cover the chips before sliding out of the booth. Reaching down for his satchel, she hands it to the Doctor before tugging him by the elbow.

“I think we should go!” she tries to whisper.

As they dash towards the front of the restaurant, several people try weakly to interfere in their escape, but they easily evade the patrons who stand in their way, and ignore the employees’ pleas to stop. A huge smile spreads across Rose’s face as they race to the exit and stumble out the door.

Rose runs to the kerb, where a taxi is dropping off a couple of teenagers. Her car is just down the street a few blocks, but they can reunite with it later. All that matters now is getting as far away as possible from the pseudo-crime scene they’ve just left behind.

Before the previous occupants have time to shut the door behind them, she and the Doctor both pile into the backseat.

“Oi, just drive around for a bit, mate,” Rose directs the driver in a rush. Just as the shouting bartender emerges from the pub, shouting for them to stop, she slams the door closed and reaches over the seat to slap a tenner into the driver’s hand.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he mumbles. He shakes his head as he pulls into traffic, glancing in the rearview mirror at the madly waving gentleman they’ve left behind.

When Rose looks over at the Doctor, he’s shrugging his bag off from around his shoulder and setting it on the seat next to him. He’s wearing his brown trousers today, and no tie (Fridays are casual at the university, she always forgets), but a few buttons undone at his collar instead. His cheeks and ears are still pink, and he still hasn’t quite caught his breath. With the thumb and index finger of his good hand, he wipes some sweat from under where his glasses are perched on his nose.

He hadn’t even taken off his reading specs before knocking a bloke unconscious in their favorite pub.

“Oh, my God,” she lets out a breathy chuckle. “I can’t believe you did that.” She puts a hand over her mouth, still processing the events of the last sixty seconds.

“Neither can I, Rose, I’ve… I’ve never punched anyone in my life!” His voice quivers with lingering adrenaline. “Not when I was a Time Lord, not ever! 900 years!”

“Is your hand okay?” she asks, reaching out for it.

“I think so.” He brings it closer to her gingerly, flexing his still-curled fingers a little straighter with a grimace. “Nothing’s broken, I don’t think. But blimey, that bastard’s face was like a rock.”

Rose giggles again, a blush on her cheeks. The Doctor has always been fiercely protective, but never in a way that evoked violence. This part-human thing has really done a number on him. She strokes his sore knuckles tenderly with her thumb, trying to feel for anything out of place, but he’s right: the bones and joints feel okay.

“I just… got so… angry.” The Doctor clenches his injured fist with a grimace even now, a little snarl tugging on his upper lip. “I couldn’t let him get away with calling you that.” He’s silent for a moment, eyes going blank and lips parted in awe. Probably replaying it in his head over and over the same way she is.

“Are you angry with me?” he suddenly asks, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Angry, are you kidding? That arsehole deserved it. He bothered me for years. And ‘sides, it was…” She slides in closer to him until their hips are touching, and traces a finger along his collar. “Really hot.”

“What?” he breathes, shocked. “Hot?” he repeats quietly, one eyebrow arching with piqued curiosity.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she climbs onto his lap and seals her lips over his to illustrate her point.


End file.
